


See How the Cracked Moon Climbs High

by haunted_by_catholic_guilt



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week 2020 [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Burns, Fever, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Sickfic, Whump, description of infected wound, might be gross?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunted_by_catholic_guilt/pseuds/haunted_by_catholic_guilt
Summary: He felt Martin crouch in front of him and take his hand, Jon hissed with pain and Martin quietly apologized, before unraveling the soiled bandage further and gasping quietly.“Jon, what happened?”He tried to tell him, but all he could do was mumble, words not coming out correctly.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894003
Comments: 4
Kudos: 205





	See How the Cracked Moon Climbs High

**Author's Note:**

> Friday TMA H/C Week!
> 
> Prompts I Used- Hiding Pain/Injury

Jon’s hand was burning.

Which was fair, saying his hand did get burned, but it wasn’t the same kind of burning as when it started.

He was in the institute, at his desk, he was pretty sure, but he wasn’t absolutely sure.

Burning, he was burning, his skin was on fire but his blood was cold, that didn’t seem right.

He looked at his hand, it was wrapped but bright red was edging outside of the bandage and it was red with blood.

He should look at it, right? 

He began to unravel the sloppily applied bandage, and it was about halfway off when Tim opened his door without knocking and he quickly whipped his exposed hand behind his back.

“Need you to look these over.”

Jon nodded, or he thought he did, but apparently, he didn’t.

“Jon, are you listening? Or are you to busy prying into some poor soul's mind?”

He clenched his bad fist, hoping it would help bring  
himself back to consciousness, but all it did was send a sharp wave of pain and a slightly wet feeling to form around his nails.

He hissed, and Tim sighed from the doorway.

“Jon, look, whatever game you’re playing? Stop it, just look these over and now, please.”

Why couldn’t he move, he closed his eyes and inhaled, willing himself to ignore the feeling in his stomach, and he tried to move, and he did, but his currently exposed hand escaped his mind.

“Jon? What’s wrong with your- Jesus..”

Tim had foreword and was now looking at his hand, and he looked down at it too, it was bright red and swollen, the worst parts of his burns having turned into a sickening yellow colour, where there wasn’t blood, there was a liquidy yellow discharge from it, mixing with the blood in some spots.

He didn’t even hear or see Tim move, only aware of their closeness because of Tim’s hand on his forehead.

“Shit… let me grab Martin, don’t move.”

A few minutes later, Tim returned with Martin and a first aid kit.

“Jon? I’m going to look at your hand now ok? I’ll need to touch it”

He felt Martin crouch in front of him and take his hand, Jon hissed with pain and Martin quietly apologized, before unraveling the soiled bandage further, and gasping quietly.

“Jon, what happened?”

He tried to tell him, but all he could do was mumble, words not coming out correctly.

“Damnit, Tim I know you’re not happy with him but-“

He heard Tim shift, and let out a tired sigh.

“You’re right I’m not, but he’s hurt and you need help taking care of him, so what do you need?”

He heard Martin sigh, and dig around in the bag.

“A glass of water?”

He heard Tim leave, and Jon cracked open his eyes to see Martin's concerned face.

“Jon? Can I take your temperature?”

He nodded, and opened his mouth, closing it when Martin put the thermometer in.

“Christ, Jon”

Martin didn’t say what it was but judging by how he felt and Martin's reaction, it wasn’t good.

“Jon, I’m going to need to clean this since I’m assuming you won’t go to AnE, will you?”

He shook his head, and heard Martin sigh, and at that same moment, Tim walked back in, presumably with a glass of water.

He tried to lift his good hand to grab it, but Tim didn’t let him, instead, pressing a straw into his mouth.

“Drink it.”

He did, drinking as much as he could before weakly pushing it away, and he felt someone press two pills into his hand, he took them, and when the water was pressed back to his lips, he took a few sips.

“Alright Jon, this is going to hurt a lot I’m sure.”

He felt something press to his hand, and then blinding stinging, he started to thrash around, and felt himself slip out of his office chair.

“Shit!”

He felt strong arms grab him on his shoulders, and he felt himself be carefully lowered to the floor, his head resting on someone's thigh, it was easily the most tenderly he had been treated since before.. everything, and he didn’t even realize he had begun to cry until Tim said something.

“Fuck, he’s crying”

Tim, that’s who he was laying on.

Tim hated him, and that fact made him cry harder today.

“His fever is really bad, Tim”

Tim sighed above him, and the stinging was back on his hand.

He cried out, why were they doing this to him? 

Tim brushed his cheek with calloused thumbs, and shushed him, Martin finished cleaning his hand and sighed.

“Jon, you really need to go to AnE for this, it’s badly infected.”

He thought about this, he knew he should but if he did, they would just leave him alone, and he didn’t want that.

“W-will you s-stay?”

His voice was dry and hoarse, and he felt pitiful.

“Of course, Jon.”

He felt himself be lifted into strong arms, not Tim’s, but Martin’s, Tim wasn’t that fond of him.

But Martin's arms meant he didn’t feel ashamed to curl into him, and burrow his face into Martin's neck, and for a second, he was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> find my tumblr at haunted-by-catholic-guilt


End file.
